


(Kinds Of) Attachment

by Nununununu



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Consensual Sex, Don't copy to another site, Explicit Sexual Content, Feelings, Finger Sucking, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pining, Pre-Rogue One, Robot Sex, Robot/Human Relationships, Sex Toys, Sexual Experimentation, Size Difference, Wire Play
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-01-06 10:49:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18386924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/pseuds/Nununununu
Summary: K-2 cannot now prevent the process that notes that Cassian has become inclined to smile like this at him sixty seven point nine percent more frequently than he does at his fellow organics, even the acquaintances he is closest to amongst the Rebellion. Equally K-2 fails to shut down several simulations that inexplicably project means of causing Cassian to smile at him even more often than this.None of them involve the contents of the box on the table before them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: this is a work of fanfiction. No profit is made from it and no offence intended. 
> 
> Summary updated 06/19.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is initial reluctance, predictions that may or may not turn out to be more like presumptions, K-2 examines a new piece of mission related 'equipment' and Cassian experiences an emotion.

“This is ridiculous,” K-2 complains, once they’re back in their dingy little hotel room and no one can hear them. He holds the package stiffly but securely in one hand, although he’d happily pitch it in the nearest trash receptacle.

Once he’s finished double checking the settings on the security system he rigged up earlier, Cassian glances over at K-2.

“You don’t have to join me on this mission,” he points out, not for the first time. It’s a sign of his concern that he automatically goes to fetch the canteen from the rickety table propped up in the corner, absently drinking the purified water without prompting, rather than requiring K-2 to remind him about the necessity of the timely imbibing of non-caffeinated fluids.

“I most certainly do,” K-2 has already informed him of the vastly lower probability of success if Cassian attempts to infiltrate their potential informant’s ‘exclusive entertainment establishment for the most discerning of clientele’, as their contact had sneeringly quoted, on his own.

“Is it necessary for me to remark that while the mission was assigned to the both of us, my role in this farce is in fact sixty nine percent likely to be more essential than yours?”  K-2 crosses the small room to join Cassian, avoiding the greasy looking bed with its single blanket and stained mattress, and places the package on the table.

Cassian stares at the box for exactly thirteen seconds between eyelids narrowed seven percent more than usual. He makes no move to take off the lid.

“That’s a large difference,” he eventually says.

“However the probability of success if I enter alone is only twenty three point four percent,” K-2 concedes, “While these organics appear to enjoy claiming at debauchery by making an exhibition of themselves fucking and being fucked by droids who were not intended on creation or programming for this purpose, my observations of their interactions on entering and exiting the premises of the establishment indicate they do not extend their supposed perversion as far as conversing with them.”

While communicating with droids purely by orders is no different to the norm even within much of the Rebellion, Cassian’s breathing changes minimally in the way that indicates restrained anger. His fingers tighten around the canteen until he places it carefully on the table next to the package.

“You shouldn’t have to do anything you are uncomfortable with,” he says in his most neutral tone. And this is one of the mysteries of Cassian: that he becomes perturbed by the possibility of K-2’s discomfort when this is something he dismisses as entirely insignificant in himself.

“At the most I project I will be bored,” K-2 assures him, “I am aware of the unpleasant likelihood of contact with organic fluids and am resigned to it, so long as afterwards I receive a thorough cleaning.”

“Not what I meant,” Cassian says so lowly it would not be audible to most organics. He indicates the repair kit which includes oil and several cloths, and says more clearly, “I’ll make sure of it.”

“Your assistance will be appreciated,” K-2 allows as, while he is accustomed to the upkeep of his own chassis, Cassian’s small and nimble fingers are up to thirty nine percent faster and more adroit at accessing some of the areas that are difficult to reach. Over the past three months, Cassian has begun to offer this service with increasing regularity, even when it is wear or damage K-2 could easily restore on his own.

And over the past three months, for reasons his processors cannot satisfactorily quantify, K-2 has come to accept and even welcome this aid.

“Anytime,” Cassian says now, with the slight relaxation of the lines above his nose and around his mouth that indicate a genuine smile, although the most of it is in his eyes. It took K-2 the first six weeks of their association to classify the variety of wider smiles Cassian gives to marks and contacts when necessary as predominantly false, and the first four months of their friendship to gather the data required to reliably identify this much less perceptible expression.

K-2 cannot now prevent the process that notes that Cassian has become inclined to smile like this at him sixty seven point nine percent more frequently than he does at his fellow organics, even the acquaintances he is closest to amongst the Rebellion. Equally K-2 fails to shut down several simulations that inexplicably project means of causing Cassian to smile at him even more often than this.

None of them involve the contents of the box on the table before them.

Cassian had been the one to purchase it with a significant portion of the credits assigned for the mission, following the scathing directions of their contact to the ‘speciality shop’ while K-2 undertook his surveillance of the establishment they intend to infiltrate the next evening. They had met again as planned at an unremarkable noodle stall in a shabby corner of a late night food market, where Cassian had pressed the package tight-lipped into K-2’s hands, avoiding eye contact, and K-2 had insisted he eat.

Given that Cassian has still made no move to open the box, K-2 now places his hands on either end of the rectangular package and lifts off the lid. It parts smoothly from the base, without crumpling, revealing its contents.

The metallic cock lies upon satin padding, gleaming faintly in the dull yellow lamplight. Cassian’s face is blank, devoid of that tiny smile. His eyelids flicker when K-2 picks the cock up to inspect it.

“Do you…” While it isn’t entirely rare for him to fail to complete a sentence when it’s just the two of them, it’s notable that he similarly seems to struggle to verbalise a replacement despite the simplicity of its phrasing, “What do you think?” 

K-2 has been paying increasing attention to the study of organic body language of late, in particular Cassian’s. He doesn’t have to look directly at his friend to sense the rigidity of that small body, the way it is stiff with unacknowledged tension.

“My indifference to the acts I will be necessitated to perform with this apparatus does not negate my aversion to the situation as a whole nor alter my assessment of it as being inherently ridiculous,” K-2 considers the bumps and ridges of the metallic cock and fails to understand the appeal.

There is circuitry inside, accessible by a discreet access hatch at the base, and the wiring implies at least one secondary function, if not several. A quick inspection of the packaging produces a small remote with multiple buttons that indicate various settings, while a cursory press proves the device will need to be charged.

“I surmise that the enhancements are to provide differing means of stimulation for organic participants along with a failsafe to prevent the device becoming overcharged or accidentally detached while in use. While it appears a simple program can be installed to allow droids to initiate these functions on command, the addition of the remote signifies that the device is also suitable for solo usage or else to allow organics to control the experience manually if vocal instructions are not possible or otherwise undesirable. Given the behaviour exhibited by the organic clientele of the establishment we are intending to infiltrate, I infer that users of this apparatus possess the preference that the droid simply act as an extension of the attachment.”

An expression of startlingly strong emotion interrupts the smooth blankness of Cassian’s expression before it is immediately wiped away. He doesn’t raise his head from his supposedly casual examination of the instruction booklet.

“I want to scan it thoroughly and run some tests first before we make any attempt to integrate it with your systems,” he states as if K-2 would not do this as a matter of course. The amount of heat Cassian is generating increases faintly as he says this, specifically down the back of his neck and in his ears, which would be visually indiscernible to most organics and yet is intriguing to K-2.

“I have already set up a series of alerts and strengthened the security of my firewalls to mission typical, and am in agreement about the necessity of scanning and testing the device before installation,” K-2 doesn’t bother to hide his disgust at the thought of the viruses he could otherwise potentially contract. He offers Cassian the cock, “Do you wish to make your own inspection?”

“Ah – no,” Blinking, Cassian waves the device away and even takes half a step back. It’s an interestingly noticeable crack in his usual composure, “Not right now, Kay.”

“I must observe that, while custom made, it is clearly not designed to match with my schematics, but appears closer to that of protocol droids,” Succeeding in shutting down a stray process that tempts him to push Cassian for a further reaction, K-2 instead sets the cock back in its padded box, “This matches with the data gained during my surveillance: while forty six percent of the organics were accompanied by protocol droids, thirty three percent by astromechs and twelve percent by multiple droids, only two percent entered the establishment with a battle droid. Given the remaining percentage went unaccompanied, it appears likely there would be less availability of attachments designed for droids such as myself or perhaps simply less interest.” Which would be granting organics an amount of sense and restraint they probably didn’t have.

“I – what, no statistics?” Cassian shakes his head. He interrupts when K-2 obligingly starts to provide them, “No, don’t tell me. Actually the owner of the shop was… disturbingly intrigued by the idea of my shopping for a KX model and apologised repeatedly for the fact they couldn’t provide a specifically produced attachment. Apparently it’s possible to purchase them in less remote areas of the galaxy than this moon.” The line of his mouth settles into a minor grimace. “I’m sure you’ll be pleased to hear evidence so far suggests it seems you’re quite right in predicting your presence will increase our chance of success.”

“Of course I’m right,” K-2 objects, offended.

“Of course you are,” Cassian’s mouth tilts back up out of that grimace, as if he’s a little amused, a little fond. He glances at the cock before placing the instruction booklet on top of it as if to conceal it, “And yes, the correctly proportioned attachment would undoubtedly be… bigger.” He pauses and there’s that heat again, far stronger this time, fascinating, warming the entirety of his face. “Though it’s all relative, isn’t it: it’s not as if this one’s particularly small.”

For a brief, startling instant an unbidden simulation pops up in K-2’s processor, informing him of the size of the metallic cock as it would appear in Cassian’s hands; its proportions in comparison to his small organic body.

A couple of processes stall and then resume working; a fan whirs.

“Kay?” Cassian is biting the inside of his cheek. He angles his body towards K-2 in question at the sound, although he doesn’t quite look up at K-2’s faceplate, focusing on the wall just to one side.

“If it were not so distasteful, I do believe that the length and girth of this cock would be the approximate equivalent of two of my fingers not fully inserted into a human organic,” K-2 remarks with an odd feeling of anticipation, as if it is bizarrely paramount he discover Cassian’s response to this, for reasons his processor completely fails to explain, “Plus, similar to the ludicrous attachment, I am easily capable of writing a subroutine to give my fingers the capacity to vibrate.”

Clearing his throat, Cassian hastily turns away. As reactions go, this is entirely unsatisfying.

“That’s – something I really didn’t need to know.” He begins tidying away what few items they have out, although he doesn’t go near the metallic cock. “Right, it’s getting late. Let's charge and test the thing and go through the mission parameters tomorrow morning, then do some more research in the afternoon, in case there’s somewhere else we should be investigating as well on this damned moon.” The swear word is a powerful indicator of Cassian’s otherwise fiercely ignored reluctance over this mission. “For now though, you should recharge and I’ll try and get some rest. Okay?”

“I agree with both the plan and your need for sleep,” Concern for his friend's emotional well-being is not a new sensation. K-2 considers the set of Cassian's shoulders and the tense line of his back as the small organic drags the single blanket off the bed and shakes it out for inspection.

Grimacing, Cassian tosses it to one side and shrugs his jacket over his shoulders instead, before settling down with his back propped against the wall. “You make sure to recharge too. Don't just watch me.”

K-2 rolls his optics, “Good night, Cassian.”

He waits for Cassian to relax as much as he ever does while on a mission, even in a place he’s secured, before extinguishing the lamp and moving to the room's sole charging port.

Cassian’s voice is quiet, replying belatedly as K-2 prepares to power down, “Good night, Kay.”

As K-2 predicts, it’s a sleepless night.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here Cassian angsts, gets immensely distracted and eventually makes a decision, while K-2 looms, discovers he's curious and makes both a prediction and an unexpected offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter includes a brief non-detailed reference to past dubcon (not main pairing).

Neon lights advertising the remote little moon’s plethora of disreputable drinking holes and gambling joints flicker through the gaps in the broken blinds over the single window in their tiny hotel room, waking Cassian from uneasy dreams he doesn’t care to remember. At some point it seems he got up for a drink and to use the refresher, and apparently settled back down next to Kay, for he finds himself slumped against his friend now, his head resting on the droid’s upper arm.

It’s not the first time this has happened, although they haven’t discussed it. Nor has Cassian questioned Kay’s decision to recharge increasingly often while sitting down.

It’s surprisingly comfortable leaning against Kay like this, feeling the reassuring solidity and certainty of his friend’s presence. Kay’s optics are dim, his faceplate striped with shadow and neon light, the whisper of his internal workings ticking over on low power mode providing a soft susurrus. His arms are folded loosely across his legs, one hand close to Cassian’s knee. Cassian’s right hand rests lax on his thigh, his little finger not quite grazing the droid’s.

No one is shouting or shooting at them and nothing is currently likely to explode, and so Cassian lets himself stay nestled against Kay beyond the point when he would usually move away. His thoughts a little slower than usual from the lack of urgency and lack of sleep, he stares at their hands for longer than he can either explain or justify. Not quite able to consciously acknowledge the sense of security that accompanies this closeness, but nonetheless allowing himself to indulge in the rare moment of quiet.

Even so, he can find no excuse for the desire to link his little finger with Kay’s.

Cassian shifts his hand away from temptation. If he is ever to do such a thing, it will be when Kay is awake – to protest his bafflement at the strange behaviour, no doubt.

Knowing he’s not going to get back to sleep, Cassian rises and pads across the small room to the even smaller refresher, careful not to disturb his friend. Leaving the door open for what light there is, he splashes water quietly on his face in the chipped sink and runs his fingers through his hair, not quite avoiding the murky shape of his reflection in the ancient speckled mirror, but not quite looking at it either.

After this he sets his shoulders and his resolve, goes over to the table in the main room, removes the instruction booklet and stares down at the metallic cock.

The play of neon colours over it does not make it any more appealing.

(Equally the play of neon colours over it does not make it any less appealing).

Cassian sets his mind on its role – and therefore Kay’s – in the mission.

The prospect of Kay being obliged to perform sexual acts on unknown organics is distinctly off-putting in a way Cassian can only distantly acknowledge, because to consider it more closely makes a hard knot of emotion tighten like a fist in his chest.

The prospect of said organics commanding Kay’s obedience; of them using the remote –

The prospect of people making a show out of using Kay for their pleasure –

Of them getting pleasure out of using him –

“ _Fuck_ ,” Pain makes Cassian hiss, bringing him back to himself: he’s clenching his dominant hand into a fist hard enough the ragged ends of his fingernails have bitten into the skin, “Damn it.”

Annoyed with himself, he opens up his hand and refuses to wince at the sting.

This is far from the first mission he’s forced himself to accept. Nor is this the first mission he regrets Kay’s participation in, although he already suspects he’s going to regret this one the most. And there’s no denying that while Cassian’s skillset is ideally suited for this assignment, General Draven ultimately selected them because of Kay.

Cassian has done many things he doesn’t want to for the sake of the Rebellion, including forcing his body into sex as a means of gaining information, establishing a persona or even providing a distraction. It would not even be wildly inaccurate to describe the majority of the sex he’s had throughout his adult life in such terms; he is accustomed to and has trained himself to accept circumstances in which he’s required to use his body as a tool. He simply didn’t expect the same to be required of Kay in this sense.

He should have expected it.

A reprogrammed former Imperial droid under the control of the Rebellion is an asset they can’t afford not to use in any way that might provide an advantage. And it’s needless to say many organic species find a thrill in anything they can label as perverse: of _course_ people will want to have sex with a KX.

Never mind that said KX – that _Kay_ – doesn’t want to have sex with them.

“Fuck,” Cassian swears a second time, very quietly. It doesn’t make him feel any better.

Then he carefully gathers up such thoughts and mentally shuts them away. Angry with himself because he can’t afford to continue to be angry with the situation in general.

Glancing over at Kay to check he remains in low power mode, Cassian silently opens the canteen and takes a sip, seeking to wash away the sour taste in his mouth, soothing the ache in his throat. Then he makes himself reach out and pick up the metallic cock.

It lies cool and heavy in his hands.

Given he’s no longer letting himself consider the specifics of the mission, in this moment as Cassian stares down at the cock, he finds himself contemplating its size and shape. As he remarked to Kay earlier, it’s all relative: the cock is a decent length and girth for use by the majority of organics, neither too slender nor improbably big.

Once he has acknowledged this, Cassian’s next thoughts carry with them a tinge of inevitability: he starts to think about using it. Not himself, of course, but just –

He starts to think about the – mechanics of it, as it were.

So: being made of metal, the cock would likely require fairly gentle movement at least during the initial positioning, but a droid’s careful precision would alleviate the concern of any unpleasant accidental slips or jabs. With a decent application of lubrication and an amount of preparation, it would probably slide in without too much hassle. The chill of the metal could be pleasant, perhaps especially the feel of it warming with one’s own body heat during use, and there’s just enough curve at the tip to be pleasing to most. The additional options for varying means of stimulation such as vibration offer an obvious bonus.

Really, divorced from the knowledge of its intended usage during the mission, it’s not a bad cock at all. It only seems small in comparison to the dimensions of his friend’s chassis.

Cassian’s mouth is dry although he just drank.

He should not be looking at the cock and thinking of Kay’s remark about his fingers, or of the fact that they too can apparently vibrate.

He definitely should not be thinking about the size difference between Kay and, say, a human partner or how the droid would have to lean over them. How Kay might rest his free hand besides them or perhaps on their hip or the small of their back, while the fingers of his other hand gradually work themselves inwards, ever so slowly opening them up.

Cassian also definitely shouldn’t be thinking of Kay talking during this hypothetical scenario, murmuring unlikely praise or more probably nonchalant filth, saying things like the word ‘cock’ –

“Cassian,” Kay’s voice says instead, unexpectedly close behind him.

Cassian, a long term spy for the Rebellion and well used to his friend’s antics, should be far too well-trained to jump. But jump he does, badly – jolting hard enough his teeth click together and blood rushes dreadfully into his face. He almost takes a step backwards before hurriedly stopping himself because Kay is _right there_ , right behind him, looming over his shoulder.

“ _Shit_ –”

It’s been a long time since Kay’s caught him so off-guard.

His heart thumping traitorously, Cassian whirls around to glare up at his friend in automatic defence, the metallic cock regrettably still in hand. He finds himself brandishing it at Kay in the effort to preserve what little space there is between them, grasping at his scattered composure. “Kay. You could make some noise when you approach.”

Given Kay generally makes a fair amount of noise due to the very nature of his being, the fact he approached quietly suggests deliberate effort on his part.

Kay tips his head, an organic gesture he’s picked up through association. As attempts at innocence go, it’s not very effective.

“What would the fun be in that? Your reaction was highly gratifying.” Ignoring Cassian’s snort, Kay plucks the attachment out of his hands, “Besides, I was curious. You were uncharacteristically distracted and I wanted to see what you were doing with this cock. You were so reluctant to touch it earlier.”

“Oh,” Cassian nearly loses all control over his expression in the effort it takes not to react to this.

“You are stressed and on edge, more so than is typical during preparation for a mission.” Kay continues, his optics assessing. Cassian tenses under the inspection and pretends not to.

“I really don’t need that pointed out,” He also doesn’t need Kay to start spouting statistics.

“You dislike the fact I am holding the cock,” Kay observes instead, in the tone that signifies he’s identified something he finds interesting, “Even more than you dislike the cock itself.”

“I – don’t dislike it. Or the fact you’re holding it,” Cassian dares to lean against the edge of the rickety table in the futile effort to appear in any way relaxed. It’s safe to admit, “I merely dislike the implications.”

This is very true in a certain and relevant context. Otherwise –

Well. ‘Dislike’ is not the right word.

“Obviously; I am aware you harbour negative emotions towards the mission specifics,” Kay sounds disgruntled at being told he’s incorrect, before he brightens again, “You also dislike me saying ‘cock’.”

Having made a prediction of his own – that Kay would say this – Cassian is far more successful in concealing his reaction this time, although he is obliged to repress the urge to shift position.

“I really don’t dislike it,” He isn’t about to lie to his friend, not if he can help it, even if he can’t precisely make eye contact. Having to tip his head back that bit further than is entirely comfortable in order to see Kay’s faceplate provides a convenient explanation for the strain he can feel interrupting the smoothness of his intended expression. “You can call it whatever you want.”

“Then,” Kay steps even closer, damn him; so close Cassian has to make an effort to ensure they don't touch. Intrigue is growing in the droid's voice, “Cassian, if this is so, why are you embarrassed as well as discomforted? Your temperature is elevated and you are sweating despite the relative coolness of the room.”

The lack of specificity in this comment seems like it should be indicative of something, but Cassian is damned if in his extremity he can figure out what.

“Ah –” He had known it would come to this. He had known and yet he had propped himself here against the table, rather than trying to escape. He raises a hand as if to stall what is coming nonetheless, “Kay, I’m not embarrassed.”

Well, he is a little. But that’s not the most of it, not at all.

Kay says in a tone of great revelation, “You are aroused.”

Cassian takes in a measured breath, “Yes.”

“Oh,” Kay says, much like Cassian did earlier. Cassian hears an internal fan kick on, just as it did back when he pointed out that the metallic cock is quite acceptably proportioned for smaller beings than KX droids.

(Smaller beings, he did not say, such as himself).

Kay is very clearly thinking of something.

“In all of my projections you denied this,” he confesses. Looking down at the cock in his hands, he then offers it to Cassian, who refrains from accepting. “It is appealing to you?”

It’s not the cock that’s appealing, Cassian doesn’t say.

“It’s not unappealing,” He goes to fold his arms in illustration that, no, nevertheless he’s not about to take hold of the thing.

“Cassian,” Kay says abruptly, in quite a different voice. His optics flare as he transfers the cock onto the table and then reaches out without warning, much faster than Cassian can react, metal fingers closing around Cassian’s wrist. “You are injured.”

“What?” Cassian reflexively tries to pull his arm free before he reasserts control over himself, holding still under the grip. He belatedly remembers the little crescents etched on his hand, the flecks of dried blood.  “It’s nothing.”

“It is not ‘nothing’,” Kay sounds disproportionately outraged by this assertion, but his grip is gentle around Cassian’s wrist. He smooths his thumb up from Cassian’s pulse to where Cassian has curled his fingers over his palm. “Let me see.”

Cassian holds himself extremely still. Kay has never touched him like this before.

He’s also never stood quite so very close for so long. Cassian is fast developing a decided crick in the neck from looking up at his friend. Incredibly aware that the proximity is such Kay is now practically between his legs.

“See, it’s nothing,” Cassian’s voice doesn’t want to work at first when he belatedly tries to reply. He struggles to swallow as he uncurls his fingers to reveal his palm.

“Cassian,” Kay examines the shallow little wounds with far more concentration than they deserve, “It displeases me when you bleed, whatever the amount.”

“I know it does,” Cassian can’t quite get the words out. He might not breathe in again after.

“You pretend at not being in pain when you are,” The pads of Kay’s fingers settle very lightly over each crescent mark. At the same time, the first two fingers of his other hand alight on the back of Cassian’s neck, right where the muscles are complaining the most. “Like here. Your neck is troubling you, but you haven’t asked me to step back.” Kay does so without moving either hand, his arms long enough to allow him to shift back and adjust his stance precisely the right amount for Cassian to look at him without so much strain.

“No, I –” Cassian’s heart feels like it contracts. He has to drag a breath in when dizziness threatens; steadfastly enduring the discomfort of his erection, trapped as it is in his trousers, terrified that Kay might refer to it again.

(Secretly fervently hoping he will).

“I didn’t want you to move back,” He wets his lips.

“Your pupils are notably dilated despite the disagreeable lighting intermittently illuminating this room,” Kay’s optics are intent on Cassian’s face, the pressure of his fingers achingly perfect against the tension in Cassian’s neck.

“I can’t help that,” Cassian very nearly doesn’t dare move in case Kay stops. He cautiously brings his free hand up to rest his fingers on Kay’s forearm. When Kay doesn’t shrug him off, he lets his hand stay.

“It distresses me when you refuse to let me aid you when you are hurt,” Kay informs him. He’s speaking more quietly than usual, head and shoulders lowering even more than his habitual slump, all of him angling in towards Cassian, “I don’t mean just now, but all the times in the past you have been shot at and stabbed and contracted unsavoury diseases and stubbornly insisted on self-care when I could have obviously assisted you. As much as I don’t want to deal with any fluids, I do wish you would allow me to help.”

“I’m sorry,” Cassian starts, feeling a sharp pang of remorse and knowing it’s deserved, but Kay removes his fingers from Cassian’s neck to place them on his lips, shocking Cassian and halting the apology, and that’s it, Cassian’s voice is gone.

His ability to think is quite effectively gone as well.

Heat rushes through Cassian in helpless reaction to the touch. It's accompanied by an element of shame as, by the feel of it, he’s just leaked enough precome that the wet patch surely must have soaked through his underwear to stain his trousers.

And none of this is in any way how he should be acting towards his friend.

But Kay –

Kay's processors have sped up, their hum increasingly loud, and he's looking at his fingers on Cassian's lips as if he's having a reaction to this he doesn't know how to qualify.

And then Kay says something Cassian doesn’t expect whatsoever, even if an unacknowledged part of him has been hoping and hoping and hoping for something like it.

“Cassian,” What Kay says is this, his voice still quieter than usual and slightly slower, as if he is expecting to be refused, “As little as I am looking forward to contact with unknown organics during tomorrow’s mission, your reaction to the attachment is intriguing, as is your arousal and atypical behaviour, and I would like to understand. I am aware you will scold me for making projections at this point and so I will simply ask. Would you be willing to allow me to either observe or assist?”

“ _K-Kay_ –” Cassian rediscovers the capacity for speech in so far that he stutters explosively over his friend’s name. It’s also regrettably necessary for him to let go of Kay and reach down to palm his cock through his trousers to try to dispel some of the frantic tension there. 

The sight of Kay’s optics tracking this movement intently makes Cassian’s balls tighten guiltily.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea,” Cassian manages for although he _wants_ , he’s absolutely certain it’s not a good idea in the slightest.

His objection makes Kay huff.

“You are supposed to agree or else take this and go into the refresher,” he points out, his fingers leaving Cassian's palm as he reaches down to scoop up the cock. He deposits it in Cassian’s still outstretched hand, “Uncharged as it is, I believe it will still be effective.”

Cassian scrunches his toes in place of squeezing his thighs together. He gets out dryly, “Yes, thanks for that observation, Kay.”

“You are welcome,” Kay’s tone descends into the one he uses to predict utter doom, “You can also thank me for not pointing out that witnessing you demonstrating the device’s correct usage would be beneficial towards the mission. While I calculate with sixty four percent certainty that I will perform satisfactorily within the expected parameters, and there is a possibility of eight percent I will not be required to participate, there remains a twenty eight percent chance I am going to be remarkably bad at whatever I am tasked to do.”

Cassian’s hand closes around the metallic cock without his intending it. His other hand squeezes Kay’s arm.

“Kay,” His response emerges somewhat strangled, “You just pointed it out.” He squeezes harder, knowing his friend can’t precisely feel it beyond the sensation of pressure, but compelled to seek to both reassure and chide all the same, “And you should have told me those statistics earlier.”

Kay performs his equivalent of a shrug, “I predominantly anticipate disaster if I am required to improvise, which as we have already discussed is unlikely to occur.”

“Just by saying that you’ve made it more likely to happen,” Cassian muffles a groan.

For the sake of the mission…

It would be a terrible excuse. It’s also undeniably incredibly tempting. Because for all Cassian’s aware Kay has a theoretical knowledge of organic sex, his friend does have a valid point. Cassian simply wasn’t expecting to do more than verbally discuss some necessary tactics with Kay in advance of infiltrating the establishment.

Which is absolutely the last thing Cassian wants to think about.

Telling himself he should take the damned cock and flee into the refresher or shoo Kay out of the room, Cassian remains seated, hunching in on himself slightly between Kay and the table, long aroused beyond the point he can simply will it away. Because for all he can control his body and mind while undercover, it’s just the two of them here and it’s inescapably different.

Because it’s Kay.

“Due to your body language I project that you are aroused to the point of pain or will be within approximately the next three to four minutes,” Kay says almost softly, and there’s concern in his voice, clear as anything, as well as a hint of mulishness – it seems he still thinks Cassian is going to turn him down. “May I suggest you make a decision and let me help you?”

For some reason, despite everything, this makes Cassian crack a reluctant smile and huff in a surge of affection for his friend.

“Kay. Is this what you want?” He forces himself to establish and maintain eye contact with Kay’s optics.

“I would not suggest it if I did not want it,” Kay complains. And –

Although he can’t possibly mean it, not in the way Cassian so desperately wants him to –

“Okay then,” Cassian makes the decision he was probably bound to all along, despite knowing better, “Okay. If you're certain – let's do this.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which K-2 indulges a rogue process, conducts an investigation and expands his data banks, while Cassian might just allow his self-control to slip, something is forgotten, and there is much want.

Noise leaks in through the gaps in the peeling sealant around the edges of the single small window, the background drone of traffic interspersed with the fitful hum of the neon lights. Organics call to each other as they emerge from seedy all night establishments to stumble down the dirty streets, voices sporadically rising as encounters spill over into drunken violence.

None of this is sufficient to interrupt the moment of silence that has fallen between them in the little hotel room.

Cassian appears even smaller than usual without the protective outer layer of his jacket. He remains half-sitting hunched against the table K-2 predicts with only forty three percent certainty will hold any greater degree of his weight, while K-2 stands twenty six point nine percent closer than on previous occasions when Cassian has objected and insisted he not loom.

While desiring to be within immediate range of catching his friend should the table collapse, given Cassian’s tendency to routinely discount the risk of harm to himself, K-2 is confident he could withdraw to a more socially conventional distance by organic standards and still easily move quickly enough to prevent harm if necessary.

He doesn’t do this.

He doesn’t do it even though it’s irrational. Because Cassian had said like a confession: _“I didn’t want you to move back.”_

Some part of K-2’s processor seems stuck in a loop, replaying this. Keeping him fixed in place even after Cassian withdraws his hand from K-2’s arm to grip the edge of the table; K-2’s servomechanisms unaccountably claiming this is the premium position for maximum response –

For gaining a reaction. For getting Cassian to react.

Watching the small organic fitfully shifting, striving to settle under the weight of K-2’s gaze and his own arousal, K-2 cannot deny the existence of the impulse building inside him to cause Cassian to fidget _more_. To break through the barrier of Cassian’s characteristic self-control, just like K-2 succeeded in doing on startling him.

“For all I hoped you would be reasonable, I must confess I didn’t anticipate it,” K-2 finds himself admitting, for several of his essential processes admittedly feel unexpectedly as if they’ve stalled, stunned by the fact that Cassian _agreed_.

“I’m not sure anything about this is reasonable,” Cassian’s non-expression is telling, as is the way his fingers tighten further around the metallic cock.

“Informing you that you’re incorrect in holding yourself responsible for the situation will prove as frustratingly ineffective as ever, won’t it,” K-2 checks just in case Cassian will for once listen.

“It _is_ my responsibility, Kay,” is Cassian’s entirely unsurprising answer. His measured inhalation belied by the rigidity of his movements, he lifts his free hand up from the table to make a tight little gesture towards the direction of his lap, evidently intended to indicate his erection, “I’m certainly at fault for this.”

Neither the gesture nor the reference should be sufficient to cause some of K-2’s periphery systems to speed up, but they do. Equally unexplainable is the fact he does not seem to be able to look away from the evidence of Cassian’s arousal, visible beneath his clothing.

Given K-2’s ingrained dislike of witnessing his friend’s soft vulnerable body leaking vital fluids, the sight of the wet patch where the fabric of Cassian’s trousers is stretched over the head of his cock is bizarrely compelling.

But it isn’t blood. It isn’t blood, Cassian isn’t injured, and K-2 has never seen him look anything like this before.

Even so, the compulsion to touch that wet patch is completely unfathomable.

The thought of telling Cassian this is –

No.

Far too few projections return the likelihood of a positive response and that’s allowing a generous margin of error due to the large number of unknown factors.

“While I’m aware you regularly seek to blame yourself for events that are beyond your control and are therefore likely harbouring an amount of guilt due to its role in the mission tomorrow, it seems particularly unnecessary to me that you should chastise yourself for becoming aroused due to the presence of and contact with a device intended to both stimulate and facilitate organic arousal,” K-2 points out instead.

“I wouldn’t say I’m aroused _because_ of this thing,” Cassian shoots a grimace at the metallic cock even as he runs his other hand through the hair straying over his forehead, pushing it away from his face with mild irritation. For once allowing emotion to translate into physical action, “It’s not unappealing, like I said earlier, but I don’t generally find sex toys or similar items arousing in and of themselves.”

“Then why? What _is_ causing your arousal?” K-2 demands, new lines of processing popping up at this unanticipated information, unable to prevent a cascade of simulations from initiating. He straightens up to his full height indignantly when Cassian’s expression goes very smooth.

K-2 is all too familiar with the meaning of this face.

“You have no intention of telling me, have you,” The accusation spills out of him before Cassian has the chance to verbally fail to respond, “You inform me I’m lacking data and then refuse to share it, despite knowing how much I hate missing information. Honestly Cassian, sometimes I find you very difficult.”

“I know you do,” Contrition at K-2’s affront wells in Cassian’s gaze alongside a flicker of humour, some of the tension seeping out of his body as he places his free hand back on K-2’s arm, hair feathering back across his forehead as he moves, “I’m intolerable, aren’t I. But I'll admit I am reacting to the thing despite myself, to an extent. Although I'm sure not fully knowing why I'm aroused will still be objectionable to you.”

“It’s incredibly objectionable,” K-2 keeps up his air of offence as if he hasn’t already forgiven his friend, “Not knowing messes up all my calculations. But Cassian?”

“Mm?” Cassian has dropped his gaze to his hand on K-2’s arm.

“Despite your occasionally deplorable behaviour, I have never found you intolerable,” Lifting his hand to Cassian’s face, encouraging him to look up at him, K-2 locates the stubborn lock of hair, tucking it away to one side of his friend’s face.

Cassian goes very still.

“Kay,” His reply emerges curiously choked, “You’re not intolerable either.”

“I know I’m not,” K-2 _is_ distracted however. Taken by surprise by the smooth silken texture of Cassian’s hair, the finely calibrated haptic sensors in his fingers identifying the strands in precise detail.

For all the varied information they relay, somehow none of it is sufficient to describe the feel of it.

“Of course you do,” Cassian’s mouth crooks into one of his small, genuine smiles.

“Cassian…” Caught by the instinct to prolong the touch, K-2 lightly brushes Cassian’s temple with his thumb instead of pulling back, unable to rationalise in any way just how unexpectedly satisfying the contact is, a startling number of processes devoting themselves to cataloguing the warmth of his friend’s skin.

Cassian’s inability to suppress his reaction to the touch is also very satisfying.

“Nn –” A quiet noise spills out from the back of his throat. Then he leans his head ever so slightly into K-2’s hand, a conscious movement that entirely implies a favourable response, his dark eyes darting up to K-2’s faceplate only to skitter away and then back once again. His accent sounding thicker than usual when he speaks, “Kay, the way you’re looking at me…”

He bites his lower lip hard, preventing the rest of the sentence.

It’s inexplicably enticing seeing those white teeth pressing down like that, sharply reminding K-2 of the soft plushness of Cassian’s lips.

“Yes?” He gives in to the temptation to cup Cassian’s face in his palm, grazing his thumb over his friend’s chin, passing close to the corner of Cassian’s mouth, “It’s odd I am experiencing the need to touch your mouth again, isn’t it.”

“ _Hah_ –” Hectic colour leaps into Cassian’s cheeks, further intensifying his flush and emphasising the sweat beading his hairline, his grip on K-2’s arm increasing by twenty five percent. Given his usual self-control, the way his hips move is almost a squirm, “You, ah. You are?”

“I wouldn’t say as much otherwise,” Concern overwhelming his distraction, K-2 peers down at Cassian’s lap, “Although however much the rogue process is occupying my systems, I remain more than capable of predicting that you’ve reached the point your arousal is paining you.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Cassian hisses, which is not particularly helpful, his small organic body hunching in on itself by another ten degrees, “It’s certainly getting uncomfortable, yes. And it really doesn’t help that you keep _looking at me like that, Kay_ –”

A bright, hot spark ignites inside K-2’s internal systems at the audibly flustered element to Cassian’s tone, rocketing up several wires into his core.

“I note that isn’t a request to stop,” Even as subroutines rewrite themselves around that frisson of sensation, K-2’s undeniably aware he lacks enough data to confidently interpret the comment without seeking clarification.

“No, it’s – You don’t have to stop,” Cassian shakes his head, “You’re curious? Or cataloguing those reactions you’re after? Is that why you’re looking at me like –”

Rather than explaining exactly how K–2 is looking at him, he grips K-2’s arm yet tighter. Enough that it makes K-2 hum, the feeling translating into one that is somehow pleasurable in a part of his body only designed with the capacity to detect pressure.

This is bizarre – as bizarre as the occurrences in the recent past when Cassian has required internal access to repair some wear or damage to K-2’s systems and K-2 has experienced the utterly illogical yearning to request Cassian press down on this wire or to twist that one thirty degrees to the left, or to manipulate that specific sensor again and more firmly.

“Yes both, to an extent,” K-2 confirms and then complains, not only because the alternative is asking Cassian to press down again, even harder, “Cassian, you said ‘let’s do this’, but we haven’t ‘done’ anything yet.”

“I’m aware of that,” Cassian pulls a face, “I don’t – I don’t want to ask anything of you. I don’t want you to feel in any way like you have to ‘help’; this isn’t the same as me being injured.”

“I know it isn’t the same and, as I’ve already informed you, I _want_ to do it,” The word rings strangely inside K-2’s processors. Because he does want: many things, very much. He wants to alleviate his friend's discomfort; wants to aid Cassian; wants him to address his arousal and to witness this happen, and preferably to physically assist –

K-2 _wants_ to touch. Not just Cassian’s mouth and his cock, but anywhere his friend will let him, as much as K-2 can get away with. For Cassian to react to his touch.

And he wants, very badly, to have Cassian make use of his clever fingers and touch him in return.

As Cassian would say with eighty nine point nine percent certainty: _fuck_.

“Cassian –” K-2 very nearly tells Cassian about these revelations, but –

No. Not yet.

Not yet.

Just like the increasingly frequent instances over the past few months in which he has recharged while sitting in order to facilitate Cassian sleeping against him, the probability is far too high that verbal acknowledgement will cause Cassian to put an end to what’s happening. In the worst case scenario, he’ll refuse to allow anything similar to happen ever again.

At least partly due to sheer obstinacy, no doubt.

Adapting and reinforcing the admittedly strained subroutine he constructed in the hope of keeping himself from blurting such things out, K-2 concentrates on adjusting his grip on Cassian’s hip, spreading his fingers, channelling the lack of speech instead into touch.

It’s highly pleasing when this causes Cassian to muffle another noise.

“You can _ask_ me anything you like,” K-2 can at least spell this out, confident that reminding Cassian of it will receive a positive response, “If I don’t want to do it, I won’t. I don’t feel as if I _have_ to do anything, helpful or otherwise. I trust you’re aware the same applies to yourself.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Pleasingly and as predicted, Cassian discernibly relaxes, “Of course – Kay, of course you don’t feel you have to. _Good_. Because I won’t – I can’t –”

K-2 gets to the heart of it, “You won’t give me orders.”

“I won’t,” Cassian’s agreement is emphatic, “Not about this.” He turns his head to one side, towards K-2’s hand rather than away, voice lowering, “It disgusts me to even think about tomorrow.”

“I know better than to tell you not to think about it,” Palm against Cassian’s cheek, K-2 moves his fingers, slipping them into his friend’s hair to cradle his head, “But when it comes to you giving me orders right now, I wouldn’t obey if you tried.”

Watching Cassian’s eyelashes dip as he lets out a controlled breath though his nose, K-2 traces the line of his friend’s cheekbone with his thumb.

“ _Good_ ,” Cassian subtly nestles into the touch, “I’m glad to hear it.”

Sudden inspiration makes no few of K-2’s systems audibly whir, “Cassian, I’d be happy to give _you_ orders.”

This gets Cassian’s attention all right.

He outright splutters, “I’m sure you would.”

For all his tone implies protest, his cock jerks noticeably within the confines of his trousers.

“What does it mean when that happens?” Intrigued and eager to test a suspicion, K-2 enquires.

It’s even odds whether the shudder that passes through Cassian is due to his cock's reaction or K-2 commenting on it, “Uh, nothing. Just that I’m – It doesn’t matter.”

“That’s certainly illuminating,” K-2 snorts, “And I believe it does matter. I suppose I shall form my own conclusions, if you won’t tell me. Shall I make an observation?”

“I imagine you will whatever I say in answer,” A little sideways grin quirks Cassian’s mouth.

“It seems necessary,” K-2 indicates Cassian’s erection, just to watch it twitch a second time, “It would be sensible to lessen the discomfort you’re clearly suffering by removing or loosening the lower half of your clothing. The fabric is obviously restricting movement and very likely blood flow.”

“Is that a suggestion or an order?” There’s only amusement in Cassian’s question, voiced so mildly it doesn’t appear to conceal anything else.

K-2 knows him far too well to believe this.

“Which would you like it to be?” He leans down towards him, closing what meagre distance there is between them yet further. His hand on Cassian’s cheek slipping to his shoulder, absorbing the heat accumulated there beneath thin layers of fabric, “Cassian. Undo the fastening, at least.”

“What will you do if I don’t?” Cassian angles his face up to him, meeting K-2’s optics, his eyes very dark. But there’s no disapprobation there, none whatsoever, only challenge laced with a hint of amusement and –

And what looks very much like undiluted _want_ , too much for Cassian to pretend away or conceal. He _wants_ this too, he _wants_ what's happening –

K-2 –

Unfortunately, regrettably, flounders.

“Obviously I’m not going to insist,” he lets go of both Cassian’s hip and his shoulder, unintentionally straightening and falling back half a step, “I’m not going to risk doing anything you don’t want and I did tell you I’d be useless if expected to improvise. Really Cassian, you’re very contrary. I have to wonder if you _like_ denying yourself.”

“Maybe,” Cassian says over this, as if he doesn’t intend to.

His shoulders stiffen an instant later, confirming this theory, breaking eye contact to shoot a look down at the metallic cock as if he’s just remembered he’s still holding it. He sets it aside on the table, “I – That’s not relevant.”

“On the contrary, I think it’s extremely relevant,” K-2 protests, but Cassian shakes his head on a wordless noise, his fingers finding the fastening of his trousers. Very nearly but not quite touching the head of his cock.

“ _Cassian_ ,” That rogue process overwhelms far too many of K-2’s systems with anticipation, an almost alarming burst of heat flooding his core.

Biting his lip, Cassian doesn't quite hesitate, “I’ve got to warn you, opening these will involve more of that organic messiness you hate.”

“I can’t yet say I hate it,” K-2 tips his head in a conscious gesture of consideration, repeating his earlier visual examination of the wet patch on Cassian’s trousers, highly alert to the way Cassian clearly represses a response, “After all, I haven’t experienced you leaking fluid in this fashion before. I find I lack the aversion I would experience with any other organic and seeing it doesn’t trigger negative associations like blood.” He should probably stop talking at this point, “Instead I find it a surprisingly appealing element of the proof of your arousal and, I am coming to infer, possibly an indication of the extent of it.” No, he should _really_ stop speaking, “I’d like to add to the little evidence I so far possess to support this hypothesis.”

“That’s –” Cassian moves as he did earlier, near the beginning of this, hastily palming his cock, “ _Uhhh_. Fuck, Kay. The things you _say_ –” His silent laugh is decidedly shaky, “You have no idea, do you. Okay. Right. Let me just –”

“Cassian,” K-2 touches Cassian’s knuckles lightly, momentarily halting him when his friend – finally – goes to open his trousers, “If there’s something I should have an ‘idea’ about, I need you to tell me.”

The look Cassian gives him inexplicably almost _aches_. Some unnamed emotion there in his searching gaze, before he catches himself and it’s gone.

“I just thought I should probably also warn you things might, ah, end quite quickly once I’ve got these undone,” he says after a moment, “And we should make sure you don’t come into contact with, uh. Any fluid. Whether you don’t hate it or – otherwise.”

“I don’t think that’s what you were going to say at all,” Oddly disappointed, K-2 doesn’t hide his sigh, “And you are aware my hands are waterproof and can be cleaned, although it’s true I would prefer to avoid getting any form of fluid in –”

His internal workings. There’s no reason whatsoever for K-2 to open any access hatches, except for that persistent and irrelevant wish Cassian bury his fingers in K-2’s wiring, and K-2 _really needs to not tell him this_ , and –

“Do you want to touch me?” Atypically flustered, Cassian interjects in a rush.

Immensely grateful as he is for the interruption, K-2’s systems are nonetheless swamped with so many projections at this point the question takes point four of a second to register. “I – what?”

He trips over his words, badly enough that concern flashes in Cassian’s gaze. “Kay?”

“Yes,” K-2 says.

“Yes?” Cassian’s eyes scan his faceplate, “Are you answering to my saying your name or...”

“Yes, I want to touch you,” K-2 elucidates, “Not just your mouth, although I would still like to do that.” He finds he’s reaching out as he speaks, raising a hand towards Cassian’s lips and the lingering wetness there.

“Kay –” Cassian holds still, watching him, gaze steady on K-2’s optics.

“Tell me no if you don’t want me to,” K-2 halts just before he makes contact. The sensors on his fingers almost tingle, a couple of internal processes hastening, hankering for the anticipated touch.

“I want you to,” Cassian says on an exhalation. He deliberately lifts his head, completing the touch.

“ _Cassian_ –” Cassian’s lips are just as plush and warm as K-2 remembers, just as amazingly soft, and a rush of sharply felt pleasure races from his fingertips up the length of his arm, producing a soft clatter when his elbow knocks into his chassis.

“ _Ah_ ,” Cassian gasps against them and K-2 makes a noise in return, helpless not to, the entirety of his focus on the way his fingers slide fractionally over Cassian’s lips towards his teeth and tongue when Cassian partly opens his mouth.

K-2’s sense of proprioception is acute: this isn’t an accidental movement. Judging by the visible heat clear in Cassian’s gaze, it’s similarly deliberate on his part.

“Kay,” Cassian brings his hand up, catching hold of K-2’s fingers, his lips grazing them with each word, “This is all right?”

“Yes,” It’s one of the easiest answers K-2’s ever given, “I like it. Very much.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” A shudder rocks Cassian’s body. He closes his eyes, moving his mouth with more precision against K-2’s fingertips, almost but not quite a kiss.

A tremor chases through K-2’s servos at the feeling of it and the thought.

“Will you open my trousers?” The words vibrate against his metal palm, Cassian angling K-2’s hand to brush his lips against it, “If you think you’d like that.”

“Yes,” K-2 doesn’t consciously lower his voice, but nor does he seek to return it to its usual level of volume. He presses his thumb against Cassian’s lower lip, “I would.”

“Give me your other hand?” Cassian takes it when K-2 promptly offers it and guides it into position, hips shifting restlessly when K-2’s fingers near his trapped erection, “Here. _Yes_.” His groan as K-2 navigates the fastening is heartfelt, “Fuck, Kay. Please.”

As extensively advanced as K-2’s hands are, developed for precise and delicate work beyond the capabilities of most organic species, the clear need in Cassian’s voice requires him to divert far more processing power than should be necessary to the task.

“'Please'?” K-2 opens the fastening as slowly as he can make himself, feeling the movement of Cassian’s erection as it responds to the increase in freedom, nudging up impatiently against his hand.

“Please –” Cassian seems to lose track of what he’s saying when K-2 draws his other hand reluctantly away from those lips to curve his fingers once more over the small organic’s hip, “Yes, yes that.”

“This too?” K-2 hooks his thumb over the waistband of his friend’s trousers, waiting for his nod, “Would you prefer these removed fully or partially?”

“Par-partially, for now. Underwear too, if you’re sure you’re okay with that,” Cassian’s reply is swallowed by a gasp when K-2 easily lifts Cassian up from the table with the hand on his hip.

“I’m okay with that,” K-2 guides both trousers and underwear down to Cassian’s knees.

Then he has to pause, transfixed, watching Cassian’s cock bob upwards towards his stomach, flushed red and swollen, clear fluid smearing the head and partway down the shaft.

“Cassian, may I –” K-2’s fingers twitch towards it without his conscious command.

“ _H-hah_ –” Seeing this, Cassian spasms. It’s fascinating to see his cock react similarly without the concealing fabric, jerking three degrees to the left, a gush of fresh liquid bubbling out of the slit.

“I haven't changed my mind about wanting to touch it now I can see you leaking,” Establishing this causes K-2’s internal cooling system to ramp up into overtime.

“Fuck, touch it, touch me,” And then Cassian’s fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, not removing it but opening it enough to shove it out of the way likewise, grabbing once again for K-2’s hand, bending his head to watch as K-2 reaches metal fingers towards his erection.

“Given the intensity of your body heat in this location, my hand will feel cold,” K-2 warns.

“ _I don’t care_ ,” Cassian groans outright, a shiver racing through his torso and into his limbs when K-2 runs the pad of his thumb lightly up the length of his cock, catching another bead of liquid that spills over the head, “ _Ah fff_ –”

“It’s not at all off-putting,” K-2 marvels. Taking his hand away briefly to examine the fluid more closely; relishing Cassian’s unmistakable sound of discontent at the loss of contact, “I had wondered if I would be proven incorrect, given my projections were based on such incomplete data, but –” He carefully draws Cassian’s foreskin further back from the glans, inspecting the little slit, “How much do you generally produce before orgasm?”

“ _Kay._ N-not this much usually, _shit_ –” Cassian is squirming so much K-2 experiences a moment of alarm.

“Here,” he crouches, close enough he can loop his other arm around Cassian’s lower back, “Why don’t you support some of your weight by leaning against my arm. It would seem wise not to test the integrity of this furniture to much more of an extent.”

“Thanks,” One of Cassian’s hands comes up to rest on his chestplate as he leans back as directed, “Kay, you’re – ah, you're running _hot_ –”

Breath catching, he hurries to snag hold of his cock with his other hand, fisting the base.

“I am,” K-2's attention latches avidly onto the action, his internal fans stuttering, “Cassian?”

“Just –” Cassian is extremely red in the face. He squeezes rather harder than K-2 deems must be comfortable, given the strangled noise he makes, “I just need to – I don't want to come yet.”

“Applying pressure will prevent you from coming?” K-2 lets the fingers on Cassian’s cock stray downwards to his scrotum, moving the soft skin gently over the tension there.

“Not prevent, but s–slow it down. Make it more difficult,” Cassian’s throat works as he struggle to speak, his legs falling wider open until he's stopped by the clothing around his knees, “ _Yes,_ touch me there –”

“These are also sensitive?” K-2 cheerfully investigates.

“Ah – _yes_ ,” Cassian’s hips nearly lunge him into K-2’s hand when he brushes his perineum, “Tug – _ah_ , will you pull my balls down, away from my body a bit?”

“This also helps to delay orgasm?” Curious, K-2 does as requested, pleased when it elicits another rumbling groan. He glances up at Cassian, a small shock jolting through his systems on finding Cassian’s gaze intent on his faceplate, “Your reactions are highly gratifying.”

“As much as making me jump earlier?” Cassian grumbles, although he’s grabbing at the edge of the table with his free hand, pushing his hips forwards again, supporting himself on the metal arm behind him. His feet skidding slightly on the sticky hotel carpet even so; panting when K-2 rubs his thumb behind his balls.

“More so,” K-2 makes no attempt to muffle the smug satisfaction in his voice, “Tell me if you’re about to orgasm.”

“I will,” is all Cassian succeeds in getting out before K-2 sweeps two fingers back up to the tip of his cock, the pad of his index finger tickling the slit.

“Touching you here caused you to react pleasingly earlier,” K-2 thus circles the little opening, experimenting with movement and gentle pressure, dipping _in_ ever so slightly when Cassian whines, audio receptors trained on the small organic’s every noise. Letting his fingers work their way slowly down Cassian’s shaft, lingering whenever anything gets an interesting response, pausing whenever Cassian appears to come close to losing control.

Enjoying despite all reason and logic the viscous nature of Cassian’s precome and the sticky noises it makes when K-2 moves his fingers through it, and the way Cassian’s stomach flexes and he bows in towards himself, scrabbling for K-2’s shoulder when K-2 wraps his hand fully around Cassian’s erection for the first time and pumps.

The noise Cassian makes at this is _marvellous_.

“Going to –” His other hand is white knuckled around his cock, “Kay, I’m going to come –”

“I’m going to have to release the build-up of heat,” K-2 abruptly realises, startling the both of them, not anywhere near as disconcerted as he should be to find he’s had no awareness of his own systems for an indeterminable amount of time, all of his focus utterly on Cassian, “Shall I stop touching you or do you want to orgasm?”

“I don’t – _yes_ – no – I can’t – are you all right?” Concern laces the frantic desperation in Cassian’s features when several access hatches pop open all at once, “Why –”

K-2 shudders at the coolness of the night air as it rushes in over his aching internal systems, at the feel of Cassian’s hand on his shoulder and the proximity of those small fingers to his overheated servos, at the throb of his overloaded core.

“I'm ninety eight percent certain I'm aroused,” he says even as he registers that, in fact, there's no doubt about the remaining two percent: arousal is _exactly_ what he’s feeling, intense and strange and nearly unbearably overwhelming.

“Oh _fffuck_ –” Cassian _shakes_ , whisking his hand away from the base of his cock to cover the head, groaning so long and hard K-2 fears for his throat, “Ahhh, _Kay_ –”

He slides off the table on trembling legs when he’s finished, tangled up in his dishevelled clothes, tipping in towards K-2 who catches him without anywhere near as much regard as he would have predicted for the mess covering Cassian’s hand.

“You came?” he asks just to hear Cassian confirm it.

“ _Fuck_ yes,” Cassian replies fervently and then he’s laughing, just for a moment, although there’s a hint of rue there as he gestures back up to the table and the neglected device, “We forgot the attachment. I didn't remember it at all.”

“I can’t say I’m particularly concerned at the moment,” K-2 is _far_ more invested in the feel of Cassian near enough in his arms, of the heat and movement of that small organic body, and the look Cassian gives him, his eyes still so very dark.

“I can’t say I’m concerned either,” Cassian agrees, “Although we could still – ah, do some research with it, as planned. In a while. If you still want to?”

Reaching past him to snag the small repair kit off the table, K–2 plucks a cloth out, swipes his  fingers  clean  and then offers it to Cassian as he consider the question. The thought of attaching the device to himself and using it bring Cassian pleasure – To coax him towards another orgasm, to get to watch him fall apart a second time –

The idea of the metallic cock suddenly doesn't seem at all ridiculous. In fact –

“I definitely want to,” K-2's fingers find Cassian's lips, tracing them. Something much like a moan wrenching out of him when Cassian slips his tongue out and _licks_ , “Oh. _Oh_. That feels unexpectedly good.”

“It does?” Tossing the dirtied cloth aside, Cassian catches hold of K-2’s fingers, pressing his lips against them properly.

This time it’s far less ambiguously a kiss.

“It does,” K-2 _yearns_.

“Kay,” Cassian’s gaze is darting over his chassis, his expression wondering, “ _Kay_. In the meantime, much more importantly than any 'research': you're aroused? Can you come? Is there something I can do; will you let me help? Please –”

“Cassian,” K-2 reaches up to cup his friend’s cheek, drawing him nearer, up onto his lap, “ _Yes_.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are interruptions, Cassian struggles to verbalise while Kay mostly fails to refrain, they encounter many feelings and Kay experiences difficulty in making calculations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for comments and kudos last chapter, I really appreciate it - and so many thanks for sticking with this fic :) Broken computer is still broken, but I won't give up.
> 
> Long chap, includes some light d/s and a little bit of kink negotiation not quite fully discussed. 
> 
> (One paragraph slightly edited).

A door opens somewhere in the belly of the hotel. The sound of organic voices follows shortly thereafter, a staccato exchange in one of the rough local dialects echoing first in the stairwell and then onto their floor, accompanied by the tramp of hard-soled feet down the narrow corridor that leads towards their room.

“Fuck,” Cursing under his breath, Cassian stiffens, glancing over his shoulder towards the controls of the barely sufficient security system and what few reinforcements it was possible to make to the single battered lock on the door. While this is highly unlikely to be an Imperial threat, they are in far too precarious a position on this moon to presume it is no threat at all.

Thinking of positions –

Even as Cassian’s mind swiftly and automatically catalogues the weapons he earlier concealed around the room, freshly evaluating what meagre space there is available for any form of offensive or evasive action, he’s highly conscious of the fact that he’s easing as silently as possible off Kay’s lap and onto the floor between the droid’s legs, his trousers and underwear snagged around his knees, his cock only just covered by the tails of his undone shirt and all too close to one of Kay’s hands. This is hardly an optimal position for fighting, although Cassian has no doubt Kay would relish the challenge.

It is also immensely, dangerously distracting.

As Cassian starts to move further, Kay’s fingers minimally shift, indicating a single word in the code they use when the situation permits gestures but is too risky for speech: 

_Hold_.

Trusting Kay’s judgement more than his own, Cassian therefore forces himself still. As the footsteps draw closer, he refuses the need to wrestle back into his clothes, just as he ignores his body’s compulsion to rock forwards the degree needed for the head of his cock to make contact with those metal fingers.

The jolt of renewed arousal at the thought of this is –

No, not now.

Not now.

Throat dry, Cassian endeavours to crush all of his feelings yet further down, listening as the footsteps pass and a renewed exchange of conversation follows the small group down the ill-lit corridor. Waiting until they are no longer audible, but only letting himself relax – to an extent – when Kay lowers his head a long moment later in confirmation that the speakers have moved beyond his range of hearing as well.

“ _Shit_ ,” The release of tension is enough to make Cassian shudder, although this isn’t the only reason.

“You’ve started thinking, haven’t you,” Kay sounds much like he does when he’s predicting disappointment but is trying to cover it. The attempt is about as unsuccessful as usual.

Cassian winces, but can’t deny it, “Yes.”

He _is_ thinking again. The things Kay had said to him; the things _Cassian_ had said, at the end. The way he had come so close to begging Kay to let him touch him –

He can’t meet Kay’s optics.

If Kay were a mark, Cassian would know exactly what to say and what to do. But none of the missions he’s undertaken involving sex or seduction have resulted in his body betraying him so comprehensively. Recalling just how undone, how frantic he’d been under Kay’s careful exploratory, inexperienced touch. How he’d had to struggle so hard to keep his hands from sweeping out to smooth over cool metal in return.

And Kay isn’t, and never will be, a mark.

Cassian’s rarely been compromised on missions: predominantly on a couple of occasions back when he was young and inexperienced and, however the Rebellion trained him, unused to some of the less pleasant things he was required to do. Once in more recent years when he was wracked with a rare and fast working poison combined with a head injury and no immediate means of antidote, and another time on being both metaphorically and literally stabbed in the back. He’d nonetheless completed each of these missions within acceptable parameters, although the one with the vomiting and concussion had concluded with Kay charging in unprompted to perform a spectacular last minute retrieval.

Although it hadn’t just been a retrieval, had it. It had been a rescue. Kay had rescued him. Has rescued him, more than once, just as Cassian has had the opportunity to do a number of times in return.

And Cassian has never been compromised quite like this.

“Damn it,” Recalling tomorrow’s mission and the role that is so likely to be required of his friend is somehow now even worse.

“Cassian,” Kay’s voice is quiet against the backdrop of the night, “Do we need to discuss your tendency to blame yourself unnecessarily again?”

He places two metal fingertips to Cassian’s chin to turn his face up to his own, although Cassian still can’t quite meet his gaze. The neon lights spilling in through the broken blinds are painting Kay’s faceplate with alternating stripes of colour and shadow, his optics brighter than any of them and intent on Cassian.

“ _Mm_ ,” Little though it is, the touch of Kay’s fingers sends a spark of sensation lancing through Cassian’s body, interrupting his racing thoughts with a rush of longing so intense it obliges him to curl his hands into fists so not to reach out.

Kay sighs and begins to say something, but then stops. The gentle pressure of his fingers shift similarly against Cassian’s jaw, as if a process triggers an action he shuts down before it can fully initiate.

Cassian’s brow creases as he takes in this entirely uncharacteristic behaviour, “Kay?”

“Have you changed your mind?” Kay abruptly asks, his tone strained, “Because we can stop if you want.”

“ _No_ , I don’t want to –” Cassian finds himself saying hastily, the speed of his reply damning in and of itself. Catching himself, he says more temperately, “Providing you want to continue, then so do I. As long as _you_ haven’t changed your mind, Kay, then I don’t want to stop.”

While this is all true, what he also means is: _I want to touch you, far more than I can even begin to rationalise._

“I am one hundred percent certain we have already established I want to continue,” For all Kay snorts electronically, there’s discernible relief in his voice, “I can’t fathom why you imagine I might have changed my mind.”

“We established that before the interruption,” Cassian points out, “I’m not going to assume your consent still applies now.”

And damn it, but Kay deserves better than this. Better than sitting awkwardly on the sticky threadbare carpet in this dirty little hotel room with his access hatches still open, spilling warmth into the chill night air. Waiting for Cassian, who can’t fathom why his friend would want to touch him or be touched by him.

Kay deserves so much better than this. Than him.

Cassian does his utmost to suppress a grimace, “I’m sorr–”

“Don’t,” Kay’s fingers shift to lightly press against his lips, preventing the apology just as he had previously, “Don’t apologise.”

“ _Mmph_ ,” The need to lick those fingers again is intense, as is the desire to cradle Kay’s hand in Cassian’s own and to seek out every sensor with his mouth; to slip his tongue over each knuckle and joint, and to learn the taste of his palm.

“Cassian,” The tips of Kay’s fingers trace his lips, “You have my consent, now as well as before; I will inform you if that changes and trust you to do the same. I would like you to touch me. I _want_ you to touch me.” A faint hum of static enters his voice, “I can’t even estimate how much I want it.”

“ _Kay_ ,” A great burst of arousal ignites in Cassian’s belly, burning away much of his restraint. His hand rises before he can consciously command it, catching hold of Kay’s, and he moves his mouth against his friend’s fingers, brushing them with his lips, “This feels good, right?”

“I believe we have already established that it does,” Kay’s tone implies a smile and there’s a hitch to it that indicates anticipation and mounting hope.

“I believe you’re right,” Cassian finds himself smiling likewise. Finally allowing himself to further relax, he exhales through his nose and lets his tongue slip out against the smooth curve of a fingertip.

The taste is just as good as he remembers.

“Of course I’m right,” The fretful hum of Kay’s systems whir faster, increasing in pitch when Cassian dares to lap at the finger, “C-Cassian –”

“Mm?” Cassian curls his tongue around the metal digit, drawing it in to close his lips around the first joint, and Kay’s other hand buries itself in his hair, cupping his head.

“Cassian, _yes_ –”

“ _Mm_ ,” Not quite succeeding in repressing a groan, Cassian takes his friend’s finger that bit deeper into his mouth.

Then, testing, he sucks.

“ _Oh_ ,” Optics flickering, Kay almost lurches towards him before catching himself, “Damn.”

Cassian is aware he should probably be alarmed by this lapse of control given his friend’s hard metal body and far greater size and strength.

He really isn’t.

Thinking of these things instead makes him shift that much closer and suck properly, bringing his tongue up to rub the rounded tip, enjoying the burst of static Kay emits as a result.

“Oh –” Kay’s suddenly talking again, words tripping over themselves, “Cassian, that’s – _Cassian_. That feels amazing, even better than when you lick. Even better than I predicted it would.”

“Yeah?” Pulling off slowly, Cassian presses a kiss to the tips of both index and middle fingers, lingering over them. Then he rests them simply against his lips, looking up at Kay.

Waiting.

“Do you want me to – I would very much like to –” Kay atypically falters, “May I put my fingers back in your mouth?”

The question alone causes the heat in Cassian’s chest to rush up his neck to his face.

“I want you to do that, yes,” His eyelids flicker, cock twitching when Kay not quite tentatively slides his fingers back in over Cassian’s lips, gliding over his tongue, Kay’s other hand still so carefully cradling the back of his head. The droid leaning in towards him deliberately this time, as if to better gauge Cassian’s reaction, his fingers stopping before Cassian more than thinks of his gag reflex.

“Mmm yes, that’s it, like that,” The encouragement slips out of Cassian when Kay draws his fingers back, “Again?”

“ _Yes_ , yes like that, _again_ –” The angle of Kay’s head creates the impression he’s looking at Cassian as if can't quite believe they are doing this, his tone one of wonder and need. His thumb brushes the curve of Cassian’s chin, the corner of his mouth, the underside of his lower lip, and then he slides his first two fingers back in, a more confident movement this time, “This is – pleasing to you?”

“ _Uhhh_ ,” Cassian’s groan of agreement is nearly enough to make his throat hurt. He sucks harder than before and Kay’s arm shakes as he moans.

“ _Ah_ –” He sounds almost baffled, “I don’t know why this should feel so good, but it really does.”

“ _Mm,_ ” Cassian’s drooling a little although he’s trying not to, saliva slicking the joints of Kay’s fingers and wetting his palm. Kay’s optics flicker, indicating he’s also noticed this, and he emits a hum of digital amusement when Cassian lifts his free hand to wipe his mouth on his shirt cuff.

“Shit,” A laugh judders out of Cassian, “I’m a mess.”

“That’s certainly the truth,” Kay’s answer is laced with fond amusement, “However Cassian, I don’t mind. As I said earlier, my hands are waterproof – and it’s proof you’re enjoying this, isn’t it.” He sounds at once slightly surprised and very pleased, “You’re enjoying what you’re doing to me.”

It’s not phrased as a question, but Cassian answers anyway.

“ _Yes_ – yes, I’m enjoying it,” He doesn’t quite succeed in muffling a groan when Kay’s gaze travels down the length of his torso to where his cock is starting to fill out untouched, nosing at the tails of his unfastened shirt. It’s sooner than his body would usually recover, especially after such an unusually intense orgasm, and it sets Cassian’s nerves tingling, makes his skin prickle.

A strand of precome trickles out of the slit in response to Kay’s attention, trailing down to streak onto one of Cassian’s thighs.

“I really do like it,” Kay sounds even more pleased. He slides his fingers back into Cassian’s mouth, fingertips roving gently over Cassian’s tongue, back and forth, a little deeper each time, “I _like_ how wet you are, as little as I might have predicted it before this encounter. I like that it’s evidence of your desire.”

Oh fuck.

Cassian has to squeeze his eyes shut, sucking fervently on Kay’s fingers as desire jabs him even harder in the solar plexus. His free hand spasms with the need to catch hold of his cock.

Kay says unexpectedly, “Don’t.”

Cassian’s eyes fly open, instantly focusing. He pulls off enough to repeat, “Don’t?”

“Don’t,” Bright optics alternating between watching his face, hand and cock, Kay says, slow but firm, “Cassian. Don’t touch yourself.”

_Oh fuck._

“ _Hah –_ ” Cassian’s arousal rockets into hyperdrive, his face flushing so hotly he feels momentarily light-headed. Completely unable to conceal his reaction, he struggles not to choke around Kay’s fingers, coughing helplessly when Kay quickly and carefully withdraws them, his cock bobbing with the movements of his body, the head sensitive in the night air as the foreskin starts to draw back, stiffening so rapidly to full hardness it almost hurts.

“I said the right thing, didn’t I,” Kay’s pronouncement is self-satisfied.

“ _K-Kay_ ,” Cassian mouths at his friend’s palm, kissing the base of Kay’s thumb and then his wrist, striving to cover the way he’s fighting to calm down. Certain Kay sees right through this. For all Cassian’s aware he should object, his voice overrides his mind, words pouring out thick with all of his want, “Yes, that was the right thing. I –”

His voice fails. He can’t say it.

“You liked me saying it,” Kay says for him, tone growing rich with an emotion that's much like delight.

Cassian nods.

“I don’t mind it,” he has to temporise right after, nuzzling Kay’s wrist. For all he knows Kay has far less sensitivity there compared to his hands, Cassian's unable to prevent his tongue from slipping out all the same, tasting him there.

That done, he noses Kay’s palm and licks up the length of his thumb, before taking it into his mouth. 

“Th-that feels very good,” Kay stutters when he sucks, lightly at first and then with more fervour. The droid’s other hand travels down over Cassian’s head to gently clasp the back of his neck, bright optics darting over the shape of Cassian’s shoulders, mapping the places where his skin is for once not hidden by  clothing, dipping down to his aching cock, “Do you want to touch yourself now?”

As fervently as Cassian wants to concentrate purely on Kay, the question certainly appeals to his cock. The tickle of the tails of his shirt against the oversensitive head as he fidgets is almost unbearable, the tangle of his trousers and underwear around his knees preventing him from spreading his legs as his body wants. He imagines taking hold of himself, not to prevent orgasm this time but to encourage it, running his hand down the length of his shaft as Kay watches, Kay making him draw it out, making him wait for the droid’s touch –

“ _Yes_ ,” A heartfelt groan rattles out of Cassian’s throat, betraying his feelings on this.

“Don’t,” Kay says happily, as Cassian had predicted with utmost certainty he would, “Not yet.” Cassian groans again and Kay’s voice regains that electronic fuzz, “Oh – that’s. The vibrations produced by your voice are extremely pleasant.”

“Mm,” Fighting down a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, Cassian clasps Kay’s hand in both of his, pressing his thumbs into the palm, kneading it as he works Kay’s thumb as deep as he can take it into his mouth.

“Cassian, Cassian, _ah_ –” Something deep inside Kay’s internal systems clicks and creaks, heat flooding out of his open hatches, “All my – my wires and cables feel much too tight, and my core is – I need to –” His voice hitches, “I want you –”

Cassian’s heart and breath stutter, his chest stabbed by a sudden pang.

This is something else he can’t say: _I want you too_.

“I want you to –” Kay’s verbally fumbling, need colouring with an edge of frustration, “I need – Stars, this is surprisingly vexing; I can’t articulate it like this.”

“Mm,” Cassian eases up accordingly, giving Kay's thumb a last lick before drawing back until just the tip is resting in his open mouth. Looking up at Kay like that, relishing the way Kay’s arm trembles as he moans.

“I believe I could come like this,” Kay’s other hand is still and gentle, unmoving on Cassian’s neck. His chassis creaks as if under great pressure, and he shifts again, unable to settle, “The data generated so far greatly suggests my systems could overload just the feeling and movements of your mouth against my fingers. Still I find myself in a similar position to you before, because I want – I need –”

“Tell me,” Cassian encourages, lips moving against Kay’s thumb.

“If you are certain,” Kay arranges himself with utmost precision until he’s kneeling with his legs either side of Cassian’s, very close. He lowers his hand from Cassian’s mouth, fingers trailing lightly down Cassian’s throat, tracing his clavicle before smoothing down his chest to his stomach, a slow slide that makes Cassian’s entire body thrum.

“I’m certain,” Cassian has no doubt about this at all.

The warmth spilling from Kay is soaking into his skin, increasing the sheen of sweat prickling under his arms and in the hollow of his throat. A shiver chases through Cassian even so when Kay shifts the tails of his shirt aside, his cock straining when Kay turns his hand so metal knuckles graze the line of hair descending from Cassian’s navel.

“There are other places than my hands that I _very_ much want you to touch, but I am uncertain whether you would like it,” A note of uncertainty pierces the need in Kay’s voice when he speaks, “Only sixty eight percent of my projections predict a positive response.”

“Only sixty eight?” Cassian can’t help echoing, just as he can’t help but lean his head back against Kay’s other hand, still on his neck. His own hand falling not to his cock, but to catch Kay’s fingers in his own, “I imagine it’s far higher than that.”

Kay makes a little sound, falling still, just watching Cassian and their interlaced fingers, metal and flesh.

“Your body is so vulnerable,” he says finally, his hand on Cassian’s neck stirring, thumb caressing the fragile hollow at the base of Cassian’s skull, “All of my former programming is – no. And yet you trust me. You’re trusting me with this.”

Cassian almost laughs.

“Of _course_ I trust you, Kay.” More than anyone and anything. He licks his lips, voice dropping to a lower register at the truth of it, “I trust you more than I trust myself a lot of the time.”

“As you should,” Kay agrees, but then he pauses, “Although Cassian, I have a concern.”

“Regarding this,” Cassian gestures minimally between them, unable – unwilling – to further categorise what they are doing, “Regarding how you want me to touch you.”

Biting his lower lip on his own concern at this revelation, Cassian finds his mouth tastes of metal and a hint of machine oil and something else – something that takes a moment for him to register is the flavour of his own semen, lingering on Kay’s fingers despite their rudimentary cleaning. Even as he registers this last part, Cassian is licking his lips, sharply aware of Kay’s optics tracking the movement as he chases the taste of his friend.

“ _Cassian_ ,” Kay murmurs, and then, “Yes. Cassian, I have already informed you that it distresses me to witness you injured. I _never_ want to be the one to hurt you. I long to say I never will hurt you.” His optics rove around the small room, metal body hunching in on itself as if striving to make himself smaller.

“But,” Cassian provides softly and Kay makes a pained noise.

“But in truth I have sometimes feared I might do so by accident,” His fingers flex carefully around Cassian’s as his other hand finally slips off Cassian’s neck. Kay places it atop his thigh, metal fingers curling into a loose fist, “Such as when you go charging into extreme amounts of danger when I could easily take your place, and this swamps my systems with highly unpleasant simulations until I struggle to function. You concern and frustrate me so much in such instances that my former programming instructs me to shake you. I’ve written several subroutines to ensure I never will, but –” His voice glitches, the sentence stalling unfinished, “But.”

“ _You won’t hurt me_ ,” Cassian insists for he knows this, he _knows_ it, right down to his bones. The anguish in Kay’s voice has him tightening his grip on the droid’s hand, Cassian’s cock losing a reasonable amount of its hardness as he rubs his mouth in regret, “I can’t promise to avoid dangerous situations – we both know that’s impossible and, if it’s something necessary for me to do for the Rebellion, then I’ll do it.” He takes a breath in, “Although –”

It’s pointless to say that he wishes it wasn’t necessary. Cassian can’t even imagine it not being so.

“I would like to point out I am not the only reckless one between us. But still, for all the times you have scolded me in the past, I didn’t realise the extent my behaviour troubles you,” he says instead, by form of apology.

Kay’s fingers tighten carefully around Cassian’s as he shakes his head.

“You are in fact habitually more cautious and careful than the majority of organics I have encountered, especially when making contact with potential allies and when planning an op. However when it comes to carrying out said plan, you frequently display erratic and contrary behaviour for the sake of achieving the mission objectives, particularly to an alarming extent with regards to your own safety,” He tilts his head, “However I would not similarly describe myself as reckless: I always determine the odds and merely sometimes find them disagreeable.”

“And acting on that finding is called being reckless,” Cassian snorts, remembering some of the more extravagant explosions Kay has been responsible for.

“Cassian,” Clearly unwilling to be distracted from his point, Kay drags his other hand lightly back up Cassian’s abdomen, undoubtedly noticing the way Cassian starts and then shivers at the touch. He rests his palm over Cassian’s heart. “It pains me that you don’t value yourself anywhere near as much as I value you.”

“ _K-Kay_ ,” Caught off guard, Cassian’s voice breaks around his friend’s name.

“I can tell you the percentages if you like,” Kay says, gentle, and Cassian makes a noise of denial that sounds wounded to his own ears. He reaches up without looking, locating a deep scratch on Kay’s forearm by touch, a reminder of a weapon deflected to save Cassian.

The strength and durability of Kay’s chassis doesn’t make up for the fact that it’s a mark that shouldn’t be there.

Likewise broken hardware has been repaired or replaced whenever possible and scuffs from narrowly evaded blaster bolts buffed or painted out of existence, but this doesn’t change the fact that had Kay miscalculated or been a fraction slower to evade, his friend could have been seriously harmed time and time over on Cassian’s behalf.

Cassian hates himself intensely for a moment.

“Cassian,” Kay’s sigh is not nearly as admonishing as he deserves, “While I will be highly gratified if you allow me to aid you further in missions more suited to my skill set, and on occasions when you are injured or otherwise need my assistance, I am not expecting you to change your behaviour.”

Turning Cassian’s hand in his own, Kay angles Cassian’s palm upwards, his metal thumb soothing for a moment over the faded remains of the crescent nail prints. Then he pushes Cassian’s shirt cuff up out of the way to reveal an old scar that runs diagonally across Cassian’s inner forearm.

Cassian internally grimaces at the reminder of a time in which he came very close to losing sight of mission objectives.

“We both bear evidence of defending each other,” Kay’s thumb traces the length of the scar, “Logically I know this should appal me and yet, in a certain sense, instead I find it unexpectedly satisfying.”

“Please refrain from calculating how greatly we’ve beaten the odds so far,” Cassian winces, “That’s just asking for things to go wrong.”

Kay emits a static burst of amusement.

“You ridiculous human,” There’s so much affection in his response it’s almost unbearable, “Statistics don’t work like that.”

“Experience suggests that where you’re concerned, they really do,” Cassian starts, but loses track of the words when Kay reaches out to tip his chin up, leaning in over him, very close.

Cassian’s eyes widen reflexively, his chest heaving as he completely fails to snatch in a breath, his heartrate abruptly erratic. Helpless to hide all the ways his body reacts, his cock surging at the proximity, “Kay, you – _ah_ –”

“If I possessed a mouth, I believe I would kiss you at this point,” Kay’s fingers cradle his jaw, optics scanning Cassian’s face, “Would you be willing to –”

“ _Yes_ ,” Cassian is already moving, pushing up to close more of the remaining distance between them, his free hand hooking around Kay’s neck to draw him further downwards, his other hand gripping Kay’s tight between chest and chestplate. He gets out urgently, “If you – Kay, if you’re sure –”

“I know what this signifies for organics,” Kay says, “I wouldn’t suggest it if I wasn’t sure.”

And then he's tilting Cassian’s head to a slightly different angle, fitting them together neatly for all the differences between them.

“A-ah shit – _Kay_ –” Cassian can’t stop himself moving, rising up to toss a knee over Kay’s leg so he’s straddling the droid’s lap, nestling his body in against Kay’s and moaning when Kay runs the palm of his free hand down the length of his back, “Yes, touch me –”

Cassian’s eyes slide closed, his lips moving against Kay’s faceplate, right where – if the droid were human – Kay’s mouth would be.

“Cassian – _Cassian_ –” Kay’s fingers sweep back up to bury themselves back in Cassian’s hair and Cassian moans when they tug, testing at first and then with careful intent when Kay correctly identifies Cassian’s response as positive.

“Here, please – let me,” Cassian fumbles their joined hands up to his mouth so he can press kisses to Kay’s fingers, desperate for it to be mutual, “I want you to feel it too.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Something rattles deep inside Kay’s systems, passing through his chassis, his fingers trembling against Cassian’s lips before Kay guides them inside to explore his mouth, “Cassian, you feel so good.” The praise burns in Cassian’s chest. “How I want you.”

“ _F-fuck, Kay_ –”

The words have the same effect as if Kay reached his hand inside Cassian’s chest to touch that fire; the same effect as if Kay’s metal hand firmly grasped his cock. It spasms against Cassian’s belly, his urethra stinging mildly in the wake of the sheer amount of precome that gushes out. 

“Yes, I –” Cassian slides his mouth off Kay’s fingers with reluctance, only so he can speak, lapping at Kay’s fingertips, sucking each one before releasing them, enjoying Kay’s static-laced moan, “I want that too.”

He can almost say it now: _I want you._

Resting a hand on Kay’s shoulder for balance, Cassian pulls back just enough to meet Kay’s optics, “Do you want to lean against the wall or lie down?”

“That would be wise,” Kay glances at the small space they have to work with, “I have never experienced anything even similar to this before and it pains me that I cannot guarantee your safety given my inability to gauge how I will respond. My systems even sought to erroneously inform me they were melting earlier, when you were –”

“Hm?” Cassian nibbles and sucks at a finger, his eyebrows rising questioningly, and Kay laughs.

“Yes, that,” He emits a huff of semi-reluctance, “I probably shouldn’t tell you that the cascade of data this created overwhelmed my processors to the extent that a small proportion of non-essential parts _actually_ risked melting.”

“ _Kay!_ ” The protest bursts out of Cassian before he can stop it.

“Yes, that’s exactly the disapproving look I predicted with ninety nine point seven percent certainty you would give me if I said that,” Kay sighs and Cassian hastily attempts to wipe his face clear of any such expression.

He still opens his mouth to scold his friend, but Kay resumes his explanation before he succeeds, “While it was unprecedented, I’ve nonetheless created a patch to prevent such damage taking place. I will also lock key hydraulics to avoid excess movement and am rerouting several systems to divert heat away from the places I would like you to touch.”

As the whirring of internal fans changes in location and pitch, Kay moves backwards, arranging himself carefully until he is lying on the floor, only looking a little awkward. His hands immediately rise to frame Cassian’s hips when Cassian swings a leg over Kay’s pelvis after taking the opportunity to finally rid himself of his trousers and underwear, kneeling over his friend.

“I don’t want to hurt you by accident either.” That’s the very last thing he wants. Resting his weight on his heels, Cassian flattens a hand against Kay’s chestplate, “So tell me what you want me to do and we’ll see if it works. If there’s a chance of harm to either of us or if you don’t like it as much as you thought, we can stop or slow down or change what we’re doing. And if it comes to it and proceeding becomes too risky, we can discover instead if I can make you come like this.”

He grazes his teeth against a sensitive fingertip in illustration and then flicks it with his tongue, gratified when Kay startles and moans.

“ _Yes_ – Cassian – This is definitely my favourite of your plans,” Rather than progressing immediately, Kay buries his hand in Cassian’s hair again and leans up with intent. Cassian shifts obligingly to allow for their difference in height and then Kay is pressing his faceplate back against Cassian’s mouth, emitting a distinctly pleased hum when Cassian melts against him.

“Mm,” Cassian arches into the feeling of Kay’s hand in his hair, gasping when Kay obligingly tightens his fingers, “Yes, like that.” He still has to point out, “You always hate my plans.”

Kay makes a bright, amused sound, “I meant it when I said that this one is my favourite. And it is not that I hate them: I simply object to your execution of them sixty eight point six percent of the time. In this case your suggestions were level-headed and well thought out. I’m simply choosing to trust you to follow through on them and will stop you if it appears that you won’t.”

“Thank you,” Cassian presses his lips down on a smile, unable to keep himself from kissing Kay’s faceplate again He’s panting slightly as he traces metal with his tongue, his hand dragging down the length of Kay’s chassis, “Does this do anything for you? I know you can’t feel it in the same way as your hands.”

“Your proximity is highly appealing, as is your body heat,” Kay strokes his hair, “Additionally your reactions are extremely pleasing and, as little as I care for the behaviour of other organics aside from you, I find myself surprisingly fond of the symbolism.” Drawing his fingers free from Cassian’s hair, he traces his thumb over Cassian’s swollen lips, “Do you know, my data banks contain no record of my witnessing you kissing another organic – or synthetic, come to that. I can't claim this is surprising however, as I predict with overwhelming odds that you would choose to engage in any such behaviour in private.”

“I –” Cassian's voice stalls in his throat. For a long time, the only people he has been necessitated to kiss have been marks: kisses used to control, to distract or manipulate; ones that left tension in his jaw and a sour taste in his mouth. The occasional hook ups he had indulged in with fellow Rebels for mutual stress relief when younger had trailed off some time ago without much notice or regret on his part. “I suppose I don’t like to kiss, as a general rule.”

“You like kissing me,” Kay observes.

“I’m one hundred percent certain we’ve already established I like it,” Cassian fails to keep his smile from deepening or to quash the noise that trips out of him when Kay rests their foreheads together, tucking his thumb into Cassian’s mouth to stroke his tongue.

'Like' is understatement at its finest: while it might not be conventional, this feels far more like kissing and is far more enjoyable than anything Cassian’s experienced in _years_.

He avoids thinking of the reason for that.

“I am one hundred percent certain I very much like kissing you too,” Kay informs him, and Cassian moans without intending to at all. His optics flickering, Kay’s following pause is brief but significant as he finally says, “Cassian. Will you put your fingers inside me?”

“ _Kay_ ,” Cassian’s heart feels like it explodes. He has to clutch at his friend’s arm as his cock veritably spasms, more at the implication than the phrasing.

“Like when you do small repairs to my systems,” Kay struggles to express himself, “But not. Do you think – Would you care to try it?”

“Of _course_ I want to try it,” Cassian says huskily, his fingers curling with the need to bury his hands in his friend’s wiring and bring him pleasure, “I want to do whatever you want me to.”

He winces immediately after the admission leaves his mouth, feeling abruptly exposed by the amount of truth it contains.

“How does this feel?” Before Kay can respond to his previous declaration, Cassian slides his finger around the edge of an open access hatch on Kay’s side, not only to distract but also because permission has been granted and Kay has been waiting for this for so long.

They've both been waiting for it.

“Oh,” Kay says in a tone of voice Cassian’s never heard before, “Oh, Cassian.” He shifts restlessly beneath him, “Yes, more.”

“Mm?” Cassian lets his finger catch and drag a little over that edge, just dipping inside, and Kay starts, his hand on Cassian’s hip stirring, fingers tightening.

“ _More_ ,” Kay lightens up on the pressure right before it gets too much. Something inside him creaks, a servo whining, “Cassian –”

“Kay –” Cassian ignores the way excitement makes his fingers tremble in place of grazing his thumb over the lip of an unoccupied connector port, inhaling shallowly when a tingle shoots up into his hand.

This has never happened before. Then again he’s never touched Kay’s internal systems any more than necessary when performing repairs or assisting with maintenance upkeep.

“I apologise,” Kay sounds agitated, “I believed I had turned down power in that area sufficiently, but I’m finding it unexpectedly difficult to regulate. The anticipation is causing my systems to seek to override the command in order to turn the power back up.”

“It’s fine,” Cassian says, because it really is, and because he knows this won’t be sufficient he adds, “Truly, it didn’t hurt. I’ll keep my word.” He presses the ball of his thumb over the port, gently rubbing, “How does it feel?”

“Good,” Kay’s fingers open and then close, “Frustrating. Try touching the point where the cable connects to the next port to the left. If there’s any negative result for you a second time, we’ll try something else.”

“Let’s not give up as soon as that,” Cassian runs two fingers down a few inches of the cable to wrap together with his thumb around the connector where it meets the port, “Here?”

“That – _yes_ ,” Kay becomes rapidly more enthusiastic, his optics brightening, head raising from the floor, “You are experiencing no adverse effects?” Cassian shakes his head honestly and Kay sighs in relief, “Right then, will you – will you twist –”

“Like this?” Cassian turns the connector slightly within the port, stopping the moment Kay grunts.

“No, in the other direction. Pull up at the same time perhaps, as – as if you are going to unplug it but – don’t.”

Rubbing his fingers against the cable again, enjoying the burst of static Kay produces as a result, Cassian does as directed, tugging the connector gently until it starts to come free, before pressing it back down.

“ _Stars_ –” Kay abruptly shudders, crying out when Cassian does it again.

“All right?” On Kay’s garbled but enthusiastic assent, Cassian swipes his fingers further down the length of the cable, squeezing it gently and then harder when it makes Kay arch and shiver beneath him, letting his knuckles brush against a cluster of slender wires to one side.

“Cassian!” Kay jolts beneath him, several servos whining this time. His free hand comes up, the movement jerky before evening out, his fingers loosely encircling Cassian’s wrist. His other hand relocates from Cassian’s hip to his ass. “All right?” 

“ _Hah,_ ” Cassian wets his lips, suddenly and sharply reminded of the immensity of his arousal, “ _Yes,_ touch me there.” With a lurching feeling of dizzying want, he realises his cock is leaking a small puddle of precome onto Kay’s pelvic cradle, a thin shining strand still connected to the head of the glans. Cassian very badly wants to rock down against cool metal, to let his precome slick the way as he thrusts against his friend.

He wants to make Kay come far more than that.

“Yes?” Kay is asking and Cassian has to bite down on the impulse to answer _anything, yes._

“What do you –” he manages instead, given he completely missed the question.

Kay’s fingers close over his, “Cassian, can I – will you let me –”

“I will, Kay; _yes_ –”

And then Kay is guiding him that much deeper into his internal systems, showing Cassian where he wants to be touched.

“How’s this? Here? Good?” Cassian strokes the sensor his fingertips brush and then again when the whir of Kay’s systems ramp up to even greater speeds.

“It’s – it’s more than good– Cassian, _that’s_ it, with more certainty, you’re not going to break me – yes, precisely like that –” Kay’s voice is cut off for a moment by an electronic moan when Cassian loops wires around his fingers, the words distorting into multiple registers before fuzzing with static, “Yes, I predicted I would enjoy this based on the – the idiosyncrasies that have developed in my code regarding you and your touch, b-but I hadn’t expected it to feel _this_ good – _oh fuck,_ how are you doing that – what was I – what am I talking about – ugh, ignore me, it doesn’t matter right now; _just_ _don’t stop –_ ”

“I won’t stop unless you need me to,” Cassian’s unaware that he’s smiling, that he’s sweating, that his abdomen is tight with need and his hips rocking in tiny increments, grounded by the feeling of Kay’s hand on his ass. He gently tugs the wires wrapped round his fingertips, running his thumb around the rim of the sensor before smoothing in towards the centre with increasing pressure, and Kay groans.

“This exceeds my expectations by – by – damn it. I c-can’t calculate anything right now.”

“Let – _ah_ – let me kiss you,” Feeling as if there’s no breath left in his body, Cassian coaxes Kay’s other hand up to his mouth. He kisses Kay’s fingers, lapping at them as he carefully works his other hand that bit deeper again inside his friend, intent on the erratic flashing of Kay’s optics and the spasmodic movements of the external parts of his chassis Kay hasn’t locked down.

Cassian’s fingers locate something that makes Kay jerk.

“Oh, Cassian – _fuck!_ ”

“Was that bad?” Cassian starts to withdraw, but Kay blurts a jumbled string of binary that culminates in:

“Again. Cassian, if you don’t touch me there again right now I will be _extremely displeased_ –”

“Sorry, sorry,” A silent laugh shuddering out of him, as close to giddy with emotion and arousal as he’s ever been, Cassian carefully adjusts his hand and touches deliberately. At the same time, he draws Kay’s fingers into his mouth and sucks.

“ _Cassian!”_ All of Kay’s fans stutter, his servos creaking loudly, optics guttering and then strobing wildly as his systems all seem to abruptly start working frantically at once.

And then stop.

Silence fills the tiny hotel room, broken only by Cassian's ragged breathing.

“Kay – Kay, oh –” It’s incredibly difficult for him to restrain his alarm and wait until Kay reboots. Adjusting his position in hope of easing the weight of his cock while repressing the urge to let it make contact with Kay's plating, he's attempting to distract himself by glancing over at the uncharged and still unused attachment on the table when the familiar hum of Kay’s systems resumes.

“Cassian?” Kay’s optics blink on, focusing on Cassian at once, “That was indescribably incredible, even if my systems did shut down with only point five of a second's warning. I do regret not being able to inform you.”

“Are your systems all working again properly? Everything is definitely okay?” All of his feelings alarmingly close to bubbling out of him, Cassian cups the side of Kay’s faceplate in his palm, his gaze searching his friend's –

And that's when, outside in the neon drenched night-time streets of the downtrodden city on the crowded little moon, the first of the bombs goes off.


End file.
